The Divergent Games III: Wheat Field
by Renee Belladonna
Summary: Renee Belladonna has recently been sent to the almighty Summit, place she seconds in most dreadful. The placed where she will be cleansed and polished to be shown off to the people she fears may hold her life in their hands.


I've been pulled at in all directions.

Ripped, torn, soaked, plucked and brushed, my cosmetologists work on me from head to toe. My dark brown waves of hair have been combed out to silky perfection. My skin was ridden of all body hair, oiled and scrubbed after a painful waxing. My fingernails and toenails were polished and shaped, while my teeth were brushed so hard they're even whiter than Blake's. They plucked my thick brows and applied cleanser to my face and the rest of my body that burned at first, but then had a cooling sensation. I could feel all the acne, scars and unsightly freckles disintegrating away. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I was still me, but I wasn't.

Yes, anyone would be able to recognize me as Renee Belladonna. But not without a gasp. I looked naturally beautiful, an extremely large change from my old appearance. Just looking in the glass, I reminded myself of my mother. And then I wished I looked like how I used to again.

After they apply lotion to my skin, they leave me in the black robe, sitting on the side wall of the metallic tub. Ralenia does an oblivious smile and wave as she leaves, like she doesn't know what I think of her. Belinda just keeps her head down as she walks out, her coppery brown hair still fluffed and blown out radically. Aumora gives me a pitiful shaking of the head, like she's trying to apologize for her apprentice's silent and stupid behaviors. And then I'm left alone in the cold room for about ten minutes.

Just then, a woman pops through the doors of the room. She has satin brown skin, gleaming blue eyes and auburn hair that sticks up in crazy spikes and waves. She's tall, well at least she appears to be in her ten inch heels, and she wears a strange looking black and white dress- she must be from Candor. Her eyelashes are at least three inches long and her lips a painted yellow, while she has white eyeliner on her bottom waterline. I knew the Summit had ridiculous fashions, but are they all this terrible?

"Oh darling, I loved it how you just fell on that stage! Give the fans something to finally root for, why don't you?" she smiles and clicks her way over to me, and gives me a wide smile. She flaps her eyelashes and takes in a huge breath before speaking again. "I mean, getting the sympathy vote! I never thought it was possible for a Dauntless!"

"My faint was real, okay? And I don't want sympathy from people like you. I'd rather citizens from the Summit and the Capitol to just not pay attention to me. It would be better for them to just forget about the girl from District 11 since I'm not coming home anyway." I started out with a raised voice, but then the rest of the sentences I mumbled without making eye contact.

"Whatever you say, honey. So, any guesses on your costume?" she asks brightly, like she actually expects me to be enthusiastic about the Opening Ceremonies, where all the tributes for the Divergent Games have to dress in something that represents their faction as well as their district. The stylist designs it, and I'm guessing that this woman must be the designer for all the tributes from District 11. I can only imagine what she plans to do with Cameron and I- make us giant black tomatoes?

"No." I respond, hoping that we can just get this over with.

"Well!" she carries on, and I can tell by her tone she's a bit insulted. "Anyway, tonight you and Cameron are going to look radiant! But dark as well. Yes, very dark, but you'll flow with the wind on your faces. Oh, you, the spectators, the Gamemakers _and_ the president is just going to love it!"

"That's great." I say in a very unenthusiastic way. "What's your name, anyway? I should know the person who's going to make me look like a fool in front of all the Dauntless."

Despite my remark, she gives her name in a joyful voice. "I am Dalia Alfresco, Candor, and I am District 11's first amazingly remarkable stylist! Now, get rid of that grumpy attitude. I want you to look fiercely proud of my magnificent works tonight!"

When Dalia meant flow, I didn't know she meant this.

I looked... Well, let's just say I actually liked the costume my stylist had dressed me in. My hair was tied and sprayed back in a volumized ponytail, straightened so that it looked black instead of real dark brown. My lashes were a whole inch longer, and I had heavy dark liner and shadow that made my eyes look like individual crow wings. My skin was coated in a pale make up, which wasn't all that different since I'm not all that tan, anyway. My full lips were painted a deep red, and since I already have six piercings in each of my ears, Dalia inserted new earrings to go with my outfit.

Dalia dressed me in a long dress that went down to the bottom of my feet. Only it wasn't a dress, it was a wheat field. Starting at the top of my chest, black stalks of wheat began and got longer and longer as they reached the end of the dress. On my arms were sleeves that started at the middle of my upper arm, and stopped at my wrists. The sleeves were puffy and black, grey and white plaid, so if I put my hands on my stomach, I looked like a farmer getting ready to harvest the first growth of wheat. Dalia applied fake black fingernails to my finger tips, and gave me no shoes to wear, thank god, but wrapped a silver chain that held several different gems on each foot around my ankles and toes. She said it would look more natural if I didn't wear shoes, but that I shouldn't be barefoot all together. As I stared at myself in the mirror, I did not see myself, but a young teen aged girl who was as dark as night and as intimidating as a wolf. My mother would be proud, and Kelli would have her jaw dropped in awe.

With every movement I made, I looked like a wheat field waving with the wind. Dalia gently placed her hands on my shoulders as we looked into the mirror. "We'll never pull off anything as great as 'The Girl on Fire', but I believe this costume will come in second place." she said in a low tone. For the first time, I actually smiled. I believed it too.

We made our way down to the chariots, where everyone had already been mounted except for myself and Cameron, whom I met as soon as I exited the cold metallic room. He was wearing the same thing as me, only a full body suit. His feet were bare like mine but accessorized with silver chains and black gems. He lacked as much make up as I had on, but his eyes were still lined darkly and it seems as though his cosmetologists burned away every freckle or mole he may have had here and there.

"I look ridiculous." he whispered to me as we were approaching the Dauntless chariot. "They know how to dress a girl, not a guy. Especially when they're from Dauntless." it took me a few moments to realize that this was his form of apologizing for earlier. But why would Cameron apologize? We both hate each other with a burning passion.

I don't respond, I just mount the Dauntless chariot before Cameron. They start riding out alphabetically, so Abnegation will go first, then Amity and Candor, then us, and finally the Erudite. This year for the Dauntless there are three male tributes and two female. I look to my side and see the girl from District 4 standing next to me. She's shorter than I, with long black hair and tanned skin with hazel eyes, but there's no doubt that we're close in age. She wears a black dress carved and imprinted with dark shells, fish and seaweed. The dress is thin and silky, with thick straps on her shoulders and it comes down to her ankles. Just then, our chariot starts to move. She catches me staring at her outfit, but who wouldn't? Her dress is similar to mine when it moves. The speed of the horses that draw our chariot creates a type of wind against our bodies, and as her dress moves, it looks like a rippling black lake. She gives me a tough look, so I turn forward quickly as our chariot finally leaves the Remake Center and blinding lights flash against my body.

The horses pull us into an open, small stadium sort of place. There are stands of people on each side of the wide dirt path that the horses draw forth the chariot on. In their elevated seats, they scream and cry and laugh hysterically, all at the same time as the Dauntless chariot proves to be the most eccentric for this year's Opening Ceremonies. I catch a glimpse at the five of us on one of the banner screens, and I see what they shout for.

Next to the short girl from District 4 stand two tall and muscular gentlemen, probably about the same age as Cameron. I see that one is from District 12 while the other from District 3. Every tribute from the Dauntless this year flashes with beaming amazement. Even though our costumes may not look as fierce as the Summit thinks they do, our facial expressions make up for it. None of us smile- The girl from District 4 crosses her arms over her chest, and as if upon command, so do the two guys from 12 and 3. What is she to them, their leader or something? I roll my eyes and force myself to look forward, staring with a hardened expression at the Candor chariot about ten yards in front of us. I know the crowd wants to see us smile, but they don't deserve it. They don't deserve to see any of us happy about riding to our own death in style.

As the chariot finally slows into a halt in front of the Training Center, where all of us will be staying for the next three days to ready ourselves physically and mentally for the Games, a banner drops in front of the building and flashes with light. Our president, Abram Gene, appears on the electronic banner. He's a bit shorter than average, with tanned skin and jet black hair. He's only thirty four, but with six years of stress from the Divergent Games and keeping our whole nation under control, he looks twenty years older. There are crows feet stretching far out from his eyes, wrinkles going down from his nostrils to his chin, naturally furrowed brows and scruffy hair. He doesn't seem to like maintaining his image- I guess he doesn't care what people think of him. I wouldn't either.

Even though this broadcast is coming from the far away Capitol, he still seems to look down at us individually like he's actually here. After his eyes fall upon me, he grins, and looks back forward. "We have an exquisite batch of tributes this year! I just know this is going to be a wonderful Divergent Games." he says enthusiastically, a little bit too much for me. Just from his tone I can tell he's faking his happiness like most of the tributes here, and I wonder if the Candor senses it too. Probably. He straightens out his grey suit upon instinct, as if that gesture comes natural to him. "I wish you all good luck this in this year's Divergent Games. May the odds be ever in your simulation's favor!" and with that final statement, the crowd goes wild and the banner clicks away from him and to our nation's flag. What are they all cheering about? He says practically the same thing every year, and the audience just eats it all up. And what for? If you ask the people back in District 11, they all think, for one that having a man from Abnegation as our president is ridiculous. Why would someone, whose faction values selflessness, allow such a bloody event to occur in the first place? I know there's got to be logic and reason for it somewhere, but I just don't understand. It seemed highly hypocritical to me.

The mentors and stylists exit the Training Center to come meet everyone at their chariots. We all stepped off the Dauntless chariot one by one, and Blake met up with Cameron and I with Dalia at his side. It might have just been me, but she seemed to bite her lip at stare at him when he wasn't looking her way. A Summit girl has a crush on an Amity guy from District 11? How strange. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the two of them.

"You two looked amazing out there. Ab-so-lute-ly stunning!" Dalia exclaimed, giving Cameron and I individual hugs against our will. I looked at Cameron with a 'what the hell just happened' look, and he just shook his head a bit, widened his eyes and looked elsewhere. It was hard not to smirk at that.

"And that's coming from a Candor," Blake said with a calm smile. "You really did look good out there. I think we'll have a lot of sponsors coming our way." even though for my actions of earlier today, Blake approached Cameron and I, got between us, and put his arms around our shoulders. I couldn't help the slight blush that emerged on my cheeks as he did this, and I tilted my head back so that I could see Cameron. I raised an eyebrow questioningly at him, but he just shrugged. Blake led us toward the entry doors of the Training Center, and just before we went inside, I sneaked in one last glance at the Dauntless girl from District 4. To my surprise, she was already looking back at me. And was that... Envy written on her face? No, it couldn't be. She was probably just scowling at me for staring at her earlier. I would be too.

The whole time walking to the elevator, I looked down at my bare feet as they stepped across the cold, marble floor. By the time we got there, Dalia and Cameron were the only people in our group who were able to enter, because the elevator was already crowded with a lot of other tributes, stylists and mentors. Once they left, another one came down for Blake and I, the only ones left in the lounge area.

As we rode upwards slowly, I felt a little awkward being alone with him. Of course the elevators were see through with glass walls, and there was most likely a security camera in here as well, but his company still felt... Unnatural.

"I wasn't lying back there." Blake finally says. "About you or Cameron. I'm proud to be you guys' mentor." I didn't look up at him, but I could tell he was staring at me. After a few moments, he said "It's not illegal to speak here, you know."

"I don't have to talk if I don't want to." I said, finally looking up at him. He stared at me blankly, while I couldn't resist sending a few daggers to him through my eyes. "It's not like I'm on my way to a game of death or anything."

He opened his mouth to retort, when the doors of the elevator slid open and we found Dalia and Cameron standing there waiting for us. Cameron couldn't look more upset that he was here, and I'm not talking about in a sad or scared way, but in a distasteful way. Like he couldn't believe he actually had to stay in a building designed by people who are going to play with our minds in three days. I felt the same way.

We walked to our floor in complete silence, nothing making a sound except our feet on the hard wood surface. The doors to our loft were wide and elegant, and when they were opened, it took my breath away.

First there was the sitting room, decorated with brightly colored sofas and armchairs. There was a fireplace against the center wall, burning with real flames, and a glass table just a few feet away from it. There were about four steps you had to walk up to get to the dining area and another sitting room, but with the whole place open and inviting, it made it all the more better. After I was escorted to my room, I immediately got in the shower and scrubbed all the make up off my face and body. The dress I had thrown on my bed beforehand, along with the silver chains that had been wrapped around my feet. It took me a half hour just to rinse all the hair spray out and wash the now mess of make up off my skin. Then it took another half hour for me to try to figure out which buttons to press on the shower panel just to wash my hair and body.

By the time I stepped out, I was feeling pretty defeated. And by what? A shower. I'm even more pathetic now that I'm in the Summit! I accidentally slammed the palm of my hand into another panel on the sink, and hot air immediately blew out onto me, practically knocking me off my good balance. Even though it had separated every strand of my hair so that it floated lightly back onto my shoulders in silky, wavy thickness, I still wanted to punch the damn mirror. Yeah, that was healthy. Wanting to beat up an inanimate object.

After stepping out of the shower completely bathed and brushed, feeling miserably angry, I threw on whatever I could find in the dresser of my bedroom. My mood increased a bit when I finally found a simple black, flowing T-shirt and grey shorts. After leaving my bedroom, I found that almost everyone was already sitting at the dining table and a large meal had already been set. No one waited for me to get there, they all were just digging in. And look who else was here, Aumora, Ralenia and Belinda, my three cosmetologists from Amity. The three of them sat around Blake, obviously adoring the fact that he was from the same faction. I snorted a bit in amusement, and took a seat across from Cameron. Almost as soon as I sat down, a group of Avoxes swarmed me with a platter of the first course of our meal, silverware and a glass of water and another of cider. My mouth started to salivate at the sight of fresh chicken breast, coated thickly in a rich orange sauce, topped with garnish, and on the sides were carnation petals and nettles. I remember harvesting both several months ago.

By the time I'm done eating the salted nettles and chicken, I'm almost full. The Avoxes come back around to refill everyone's glass, and then bring out dessert. I recognize the wide cake covered in strawberries as pavlova, such an expensive bakery dish that we could never afford back home. I've been dying to try it. I put my elbow on the table and rest my head on my hand, taking each individual carnation petal and placing it delicately on the cake. By the time I look up from my plate, everyone seems to be staring at me.

"What?" I ask, bringing my head off my palm.

"You put flower petals on your food?" Ralenia asks in her naturally oblivious tone of voice. When my eyes finally fall upon Cameron, I realize he's only looking at me because everyone else is, like he was trying to figure out what they saw wrong with me.

"Doesn't everybody?" I ask, staring down at the cake. "At home, we could never afford both at the same time. So when there were celebrations, everyone would take the flowers and pluck them of their petals, placing them on their desserts before eating. I thought every district did that." I said bluntly.

"I guess I've floated away from our district's customs." Blake says, sighing. Only it doesn't seem like he's trying to make fun of me, but disappointed in himself for not knowing that. I turn back to Cameron.

"Maybe it's just a thing the Summit doesn't do." Cameron shrugs. I know it was a small choice of words, but I'm thankful for him chiming in on my part. I look back to my three cosmetologists of Amity, and notice Ralenia vigorously placing each one of her carnation petals on her plate of pavlova. Aumora and Belinda still look at me funny. Aumora shakes her head and looks back at her food confusedly, and then finally begins to add petals to her dish as well. Belinda simply continues to give me puzzeled looks until I turn my head back to my plate and begin to scoop up tiny bits of my dessert and place the sweetness in between my lips.

After pulling on a white night gown, I lay in my bed. It was the most comfortable thing I had ever had the pleasure of lying in, and I enjoyed every second of it. Soon, after lying there staring at the ceiling, I drifted off into a dreamless sleep, and once again, I dreaded the day ahead of me.

** End**

**Chapter 3**

**The Divergent Games**


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